


Dark and Light

by Kimberleg



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimberleg/pseuds/Kimberleg
Summary: Thranduil and Legolas live contentedly together in the modern world. One day shakes their world and reveals the best and worst of humanity.





	1. Chapter 1

After a pleasant night’s sleep, Legolas drowsily woke that morning with the familiar warm feeling of delicate kisses being placed on the back of his neck. He had fallen asleep on his side and Thranduil lay close behind him, his chest pressing snugly against Legolas’ back. His arm was draped over Legolas’ right side and he held his son’s hand – his love’s hand – in his own against the younger one’s heart. Legolas smiled and sighed gently as the sensation warmed his soul.  
Feeling him stir, Thranduil moved his kisses up the side of his neck to under his son’s ear – a sensitive spot thoroughly enjoyed by both.

“Good morning, ada”, Legolas sighed happily.

“Good morning, my lovely one” his father replied softly in a quiet and deep voice.

As he came more to his senses, he remembered how close he and his beloved father were and in particular how close his bottom was to his father’s manhood. They were romantic enough the previous night to satisfy their desire, but it was none the less a turn-on every morning.  
Legolas languidly rolled over in his father’s arms to face the one he loved the most. Looking into each other’s eyes, they both smiled, happy to start another day together. It was bliss. Legolas tenderly nudged Thranduil’s nose with his own before closing the distance and joining their lips together in a loving kiss.  
He cupped his son’s face with his hands as they lay close together for a while. Legolas gently opened his eyes and looked towards the light streaming through their curtains.

“It looks like a lovely day”, Legolas remarked.

“Indeed” said Thranduil, who had been awake longer than Legolas and had already registered the sun’s glow.  
“And one that I would love to spend with you – but alas, I have to go to work. I have some things that need doing in the office”.

Not wanting to be parted from his father just yet, he twisted his head round to glance at the clock beside the bed. The blue numbers glowed 8:48AM.

“You’re late” Legolas stated.

Thranduil made a disgruntled noise and shrugged. “They’re very flexible about my hours. So long as I get the work done, they don’t seem to care much”.

Legolas left it there. He didn’t mind at all if it meant he could stay in bed with his father a little longer, so long as it didn’t get Thranduil into trouble. It seemed strange that his lord and King should have to work – though he did have a high position in the business – but Mirkwood riches meant nothing in this world and they couldn’t buy food for free.  
They stayed for a few more minutes in each other’s company before they both rose and dressed themselves, Thranduil in his work suit, tie and smart black shoes (which he despised – he would prefer to walk barefoot than “clump around in this miserable material”, as Thranduil put it during one of his many rants about abiding by mortal expectations), Legolas in a smart-casual shirt and straight trousers with an ornate belt Thranduil had bought him. Legolas enjoyed watching Thranduil dress – he would lay in bed while the gorgeous figure was revealed before him as Thranduil left the bed, drinking in the sight of his muscles and skin before it was covered layer by layer in tailored clothes and luxurious fabrics which fitted him like a dream. He looked just as stunning clothed as unclothed.  
On a lazier day Legolas would dress more casually and lounge around the house, waiting impatiently for his lover to return home. But today he had other plans. The change in appearance caught Thranduil’s eye over breakfast, which as usual consisted of toast with sweet preserves and a large cafetiere of coffee:

“What prompts such an effort from you this morning, veleth nin?” he teased.

“I am going out”, the Prince replied. “I have some jobs to do in the centre of town”.

“Such as?” asked the King.

A sticky crumb hung delicately from Thranduil’s lips. It took all of Legolas’ willpower not to instinctively lean forward and lick the offending crumb away whilst tasting his lover’s delicious mouth at the same time. To distract himself, he decided to tease the King instead:

“Aren’t you curious this morning? Do you think I’m up to something?!” Legolas laughed before continuing: “I was thinking of buying some new shirts, we need some groceries…I might even buy you a present”. He grinned. “Anything you’d like?”

There are many things I would like from you, sweet one, mainly your naked body beneath mine across this table, thought Thranduil with his last mouthful of toast, but instead he pushed the jar of honey deliberately towards Legolas. It was looking rather depleted. Thranduil had a love of sweet things.

“More honey” noted Legolas. “Is that all?”

Thranduil was too busy licking the last remnants of honey from his teeth, so he just nodded. He didn’t like to waste a drop.  
Soon it was time for Thranduil to leave. He finished his coffee, grabbed his elegant outdoor coat and car keys and was just about to bid Legolas farewell when he felt a squeeze on his shoulder, which made him turn around. He had barely turned to face his son when he felt his lips engulfed by a wet heat and a loving force crash through the soul bond he shared with his son like a momentous wave. His eyes fell shut as the sensation of the kiss thrilled every fibre of his being. Thranduil held Legolas tightly, both hands caressing his face and hair before one descended to his lower back to bring his son closer, and they quickly grew more passionate as their tongues met through open mouths.  
It wasn’t that he ever forgot, but whenever they kissed the realisation of the love they shared, the sheer power of it, stunned Thranduil. The truth that such happiness was theirs, such persistent desire, nay need for this person in his life, the strength of its resilience, the knowledge that he would gladly give his life to save him, and the fact that he would die should Legolas be taken from him…he loved him. He loved him so much.  
Time seemed to stall during that wonderful moment, and at the same time it was over all too soon. 

“See you after work, I’ll be home before you”, said Legolas after pulling back to smile at him with shining eyes.

Thranduil’s thoughts broke at the sound of Legolas’ voice calling him back to reality and he gave Legolas an equally warm smile, such that only Legolas had ever been able to bring out of him. He said nothing of his thoughts, for no other reason than he didn’t need to – Legolas felt the same way he did and their emotions were shared between them through their bond. Their kiss had warmed Thranduil’s heart and his own in equal measure.

“Love you” called Legolas as Thranduil headed for the door.

“Love you too, my lovely ‘Las” he replied.


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas was puffed out. Carrying shopping was certainly more cumbersome than fighting on a battlefield. Dodging through other shoppers, avoiding the dawdlers and the ‘stoppers’ (those who stand still on a narrow, busy pavement – a pet hate of Legolas’), keeping count of all his bags, not misplacing his wallet, his arms and hands riddled with handle-marks, his mind racing with thoughts of what to buy and what not to buy…being an elf he was not physically exhausted but he felt like it, so he pulled into a quiet café for a coffee and a rest, which is where he now was.  
Before he had started shopping, he had been briefly distracted by the local library. It was quite impressive with several floors and although not much of a reader he didn’t mind having a look around. It reminded him a little of the ‘libraries’ (if they were called that) from his past: his father’s palace held a reasonable collection, mainly works written by their own people, and nothing rivalled the extensive quantity of accounts and historical manuscripts in Imladris, or Rivendell.  
He perused through the fantasy section, seeing if anything caught his interest, but eventually he ended up where he always did – the Gay and Lesbian section. He didn’t know why, there wasn’t anything in particular that he was looking for or wanted, it just seemed so novel to have such things written about – it was never spoken of in his past in Mirkwood, even though it must have existed, so hearing someone’s else opinion and experience of it, fictional or factual, was not only new but valuable to the Prince who had spent so many years in denial and guilt before reaching acceptance.  
Initially he felt very self-conscious approaching these books in a public place, as though the world could see what he was doing, watching and judging. But in time he realised that mortals mostly kept their heads down and didn’t look at anybody, and he grew more comfortable reading and learning. He’d spoken to Thranduil about it once, who was equally intrigued. He’d even brought home some books to show him. They sat on the bed and read them together.  
Only this morning had he ever stood with somebody in that section. He was looking through a book about male photography when he noticed a young man in a coat was standing next to him, hands firmly in his pockets, also looking through the book titles. Legolas looked at him when he noticed him, and the man turned to Legolas when Legolas had moved. They accidentally made eye contact and the young man immediately looked to his feet as though if he didn’t look at Legolas, Legolas wouldn’t be able to see him.  
Legolas saw how shy and nervous the man appeared and thought he probably felt how Legolas had felt when he first approached this section. He couldn’t decide whether the man was nervous approaching him or the books. He assumed it was the latter and shooting him a quick smile, he replaced the book and gave the man his privacy.  
His first priority of the day had been clothes: more for himself than for Thranduil, who was notoriously picky about what he wore and already had a wardrobe full of spectacular shirts and outfits, from the elegant to the smart, to the casual and the divine. Legolas on the other hand felt that he needed some more shirts and was generally perusing for new colours and styles, as his wardrobe by comparison was rather bland and empty. He had had shirts – he wasn’t sure what had happened to them. It was possible that many of them had been…damaged during their more passionate moments. Legolas chuckled to himself as some very pleasant memories came back to him.  
He ended up buying a few shirts (his favourite being a long-sleeved dark blue one), a pair of trousers, a set of socks with a green leaf on each (seemed appropriate) and a new pair of shoes. He was tempted to buy the kinky piece of male underwear he saw by chance, but although he considered he turned against it in the end. They’d only end up being taken off anyway. He did however stop off for lube - that was a necessity.  
After clothes came the groceries. Just because they didn’t need to eat as much or as often as mortal humans didn’t mean they didn’t like to. They had nothing in the house for an evening meal and apart from breakfast they had mainly been leaving off takeaways and snacks for the past few days. He stocked his basket with vegetables, sauces, pastas, fruit and drinks. The odd naughty slab of chocolate may have slipped in there too, and at the last minute he remembered Thranduil’s honey, of which he bought the nicest one he could find – a large glass jar with a golden lid.  
Back in the café, Legolas had finished his coffee and was calmly watching the clouds and the bustling people outside, reflecting on whether he needed to purchase anything else or whether he was good to go home. He was in no hurry, it had only just passed one o’ clock in the afternoon and he had bought everything that he needed - he would be home in plenty of time before Thranduil. He only hoped that Thranduil wouldn’t be cross with his spending, it was his earned money, after all.  
As he was contemplating this, the barista approached where he was sitting and placed another frothy coffee in front of him. The strong, warm smell of the caffeine instantly rose up the elf’s nose, drawing him from his thoughts, but he was baffled – he hadn’t ordered another one. The barista leant down towards him and said with little emotion, “Courtesy of the man in the corner”, tilting his head slightly in the appropriate direction. Without hanging around, the barista returned nonchalantly to behind the counter.  
Legolas turned, intrigued, to where the server had indicated and sure enough, not only was there a man looking in his direction, but it was a man that he recognised. It was the shy young man from the library, huddled in the corner of the café, with a weak smile on his face as he gazed at Legolas with a mixture of contentment and awe.  
Now Legolas was conflicted. He was touched by the young man’s gesture, it was a sweet thing to do, but Legolas couldn’t flirt with him. Not only was he unavailable at this present time, he was taken for life – his bond with Thranduil was eternal – but at the same time the man was being affectionately friendly, and it would seem cold and rude to ignore him. You don’t have someone buy you a drink and then not thank them for it. Besides, how could he expect people to accept him for who he was if he shunned others, especially those who were only trying to be friendly by offering someone they liked the look of a free cup of coffee?  
He took a sip of his new coffee (and it was good coffee), rose from his chair taking his drink with him and walked over to the man in the corner. He could almost see the blood drain from the younger man’s face as he approached, as though the results of his actions dawned on him. But Legolas wore a friendly smile on his face and the light of the sunbeams and his own presence shone all around him in a glorious halo.  
The man neither moved nor spoke when Legolas reached his table, so Legolas spoke first: “Hello, friend”.

“Hi”, the man meekly replied. Legolas smiled even more broadly – he didn’t want the man to feel uncomfortable or like he’d done something wrong.

“Thank you for the coffee, it was very nice of you”.

The man’s smile did not disappear but flickered. His eyes dropped from Legolas’ as he said not too loudly: “You’re very beautiful”.

Again Legolas was more than aware of the situation he was in, but it was a very honest and flattering compliment.

“Thank you”, he said warmly, and then at an attempt at humour, “you’re not so bad yourself!”

The man gave a light chuckle, before raising his eyes back to Legolas and looking at him sincerely: “Will you sit with me?”

Legolas looked at him kindly, thinking what words to use to tell him the honest truth:

“Look…” he started, “I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid I’m already taken by somebody else. You are such a sweet man, I wouldn’t want to mislead you”.

In all honesty, Legolas felt very awkward, he had never been in this situation before. To his surprise the man’s face didn’t move – his eyes didn’t fall and he didn’t drop his head, he held Legolas’ gaze and remained perfectly still.

“That doesn’t matter. I just wanted to talk, that’s all. Unless you’re busy or something…”

Now Legolas did feel foolish. This poor man had taken the brave step to go after someone he liked, perhaps to find a kindred spirit, had followed his heart against his nervous nature, had even bought him coffee, and here he was, shunning this man’s kind actions when all he wanted to do was talk. Legolas felt a pang of guilt inside, this guy looked terribly lonely. He remembered what that felt like – even being surrounded by comrades and adoring subjects did not make his heart in the palace of Mirkwood feel any more comforted. Now he had Thranduil, his hopes and dreams had been answered – what if this guy was all alone?

“I’m sorry, please forgive me, yes of course I can talk with you”. Legolas apologised profusely, quickly retrieved his bags from his previous table and took a seat.

“Thanks”, the man replied, accepting Legolas’ apology if indeed he felt forgiveness was needed. “What’s your name?”

“Legolas” he replied. “And yours?”

“Joseph”, the young man replied.

They talked casually for about half an hour – the coffee, the weather, the town, what they’d been up to, where they were from (though Legolas avoided divulging into his Elvish heritage, he just said he was local) - throughout which Joseph alternated between picking his nails, fidgeting with his feet and ruffling his hair. He became more confident as they talked, he looked up more, held eye contact, smiled more, even laughed on occasion. Legolas wondered what it is that made the man so shy and nervous. The latter topic of conversation shone a light onto a potential answer.  
They had finished their drinks and the conversation was fizzling out, so it looked like an appropriate time to part ways, when Joseph became suddenly nervous again.

“I…was wondering…if…I could ask a favour of you”, he asked falteringly, his voice once again quiet and his eyes flitting between Legolas and the table.

“Of course”, Legolas replied politely.

After a hesitant pause and as though admitting a confession, he stuttered, “I’m…gay”.

Legolas was bemused as he thought they had already established this, but he maintained a caring and listening appearance. 

“This town isn’t always nice to gay people”, Joseph continued, “…and…people haven’t always treated me very well…and the thing is, I feel threatened, like I’m not safe in my home town. I don’t often go out, but I had to today, I had an appointment…not for anything serious, but…well, now I’ve got to go home, and it isn’t far, but…I was just wondering, if it’s not too much out of your way, is there…any chance you could…walk me home? I mean, you don’t have to come in, or anything, if you don’t want to…of course if you want to, you can, I don’t mind that either, you can…use the loo or something…stupid thing to say, sorry…but…do you think that would be OK?”

Legolas’ heartstrings tugged inside him. He dared not think what treatment this man may have been through. No wonder he was so frightened all the time if he had been treated so badly, received threats for who he was, told he was wrong for who he loved. It would be cruel to refuse.

“That would be no problem at all” answered Legolas. The grateful smile of relief that spread over Joseph’s face made Legolas feel warm and good inside.  
“Where is your home?”

“Just a little way out of town”, Joseph replied. “It’s about…20 minutes walk?”  
“No problem – so long as you don’t mind carrying a bag or two!” Legolas reiterated, referring to the bags of shopping. Joseph laughed and held his arms out like a coat-rack, which made Legolas laugh too. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t stay in the man’s house out of respect for Thranduil, but he could at least ensure that he got home safely.


	3. Chapter 3

Bags in arms and walking side-by-side, the pair walked along, down and round the high streets until the crowds subsided and the shops were replaced by roads and cars. On the border of the busy town centre, Joseph stopped on the pavement by a small alleyway between two tall buildings.

“It’s this way”, Joseph called.

Legolas looked between where Joseph was standing and the street they had been following which continued on past the tall building. “Can we not walk round?”   
Joseph shook his head: “The path to the house is cut off that way. We have to go through here. Believe me, I wish we didn’t”.  
Legolas shrugged and took his word for it, but walking back towards Joseph he saw his face fall. “It’s this part of the journey I don’t like”, he admitted.  
Legolas looked down the alleyway. It was dark but it wasn’t pitch-dark, it was certainly long from where they were to the other side and it was undoubtedly dingy but you could see the light at the other end, it was just less pleasant than the open air, that was all.  
Legolas looked back to Joseph. His face had blanched a little. This was clearly where he needed Legolas most. Legolas smiled, saying nothing, and extended his hand towards Joseph’s in a comforting gesture. Still nervous but grateful, Joseph accepted his hand and together they walked into the alleyway.  
The walk was initially, as expected, anti-climactic. There was enough width for both men to walk side by side and they walked in silence through the dark. All Legolas could hear aside from background noises of the world around them was Joseph’s footsteps and breathing. Legolas noticed two things as they walked – firstly the alley wasn’t entirely straight, it bent slightly (though not so much that you couldn’t see the end further off) and about half-way along it widened to the size of a small room. In this middle area, it was also significantly darker than at either end. Secondly, since this was the part he disliked the most he expected Joseph to move quickly through this area, but instead he did the exact opposite and trudged along, such that Legolas had to noticeably slow his pace. He also looked around a lot, as if he was expecting something to happen, like prey anticipating a predator to swoop down from the sky. Had he met someone here before? Had something happened to him here?  
They crawled along the path until Joseph eventually ground to a halt in the wider area. Legolas stopped with him, wondering why he would possibly want to stop in a place like this. Joseph’s facial expression had not changed since they entered the alleyway – it was fixed, wide-eyed, almost thoughtful, like his mind was focused the whole time on contemplating something. It was the same now.  
At first facing away from him, Joseph turned to Legolas with a new show of confidence, bearing his soul in his eyes as he looked directly at the blond.

“Would you kiss me, Legolas?” he asked earnestly.

Legolas sighed quietly. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. It was clear that Joseph found him attractive and thought maybe he had found a soul mate in him, but that could not be. Not the smallest thought, no single part of him even considered for a moment the possibility of having an affair, to taste the flesh of another.

“Joseph…” he started carefully, “you are a good man, you are a kind man. Anyone would be lucky to have you. But as I have told you, my heart is already taken and that is a bond that I cannot break, even if I wanted to”.

It hurt him to say it but it was the right thing to do. Joseph’s eyes didn’t drop.

“Who is he?” he asked.

Legolas smiled as Thranduil’s face filled his mind.  
“Someone very special” he replied, “someone who you will find one day, you will have your own special person. And when you meet them, you will know”.

“I thought I had” Joseph replied quietly. Legolas remained quiet, not knowing what more to say.

“I must say, I am surprised” Joseph continued at their previous, more audible volume. “I thought you’d jump at the chance”.

Legolas thought that was a little bold, but perhaps it was an attempt to avoid the hurt. That was, until Joseph followed up his statement with the question: “That’s what you gays like, isn’t it? A bit of tongue?”

Legolas frowned and cocked his head. What did he mean by you gays?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard” Joseph responded, a completely different character to the man Legolas had met in the library: head up, straight back, broad shoulder, direct eye contact, no shame or hiding in his voice, stepping closer to close the gap between the two of them, a generally more threatening and unpleasant appearance.  
He suddenly threw the bags he was holding for Legolas away in a swift and vicious movement, not even looking to see where he threw them. They hit the wall with a crash, scattering their contents. Joseph then spoke as though he wanted to spit in Legolas’ face:  
“Don’t you want to fuck me in the ass? Isn’t that what fags like you do all day?”

From the moment he realised it as a young Elf in Mirkwood, he had feared his people’s reaction if they ever discovered the truth of his preference for men over women. He could not fathom whether it was something to be guilty for or not, but it was the way he was, he couldn’t help it. He accepted himself gradually with Thranduil and with time, but he had never encountered such hatred and vile words against himself or the way he loved. Legolas was stunned.  
‘Who are you?’ he thought, ‘what have you done with Joseph?’

But his thoughts were distracted. His eyes detected movement in the shadows. From behind Joseph, two men were approaching him. He spotted another man leaning against the wall holding something behind his back, but what it was Legolas could not see. He had known that they weren’t completely alone in the alleyway, but he hadn’t realised that they were all connected, and even worse, connected to Joseph and him.   
He understood now that he had been tricked.  
What both annoyed and worried the Prince was that Joseph was clearly a master of his craft – using vulnerability and exploiting kind hearts to will his victims into his trap, where his friends would be waiting for them and his transformation would take place. It was an impressive and terrible skill.  
As well as the embarrassment of being conned, the worst feeling of all was the wicked falsehood of it. The nervous behaviour, the shy eyes, being in that one section of the library, his sob-story about being afraid to walk home alone, buying him a coffee, everything pleasant about their encounter had been a carefully coordinated ruse, conjured-up lies. Legolas – unlike Thranduil – had a soft spot in his heart for mortals, but this was truly a darker side to their race.  
The men moved in closer. They positioned themselves deliberately to make escape look impossible. Each pair of eyes glared at him, each pair silently threatening.  
Legolas’ options were limited: to fight or to run. Running would be possible (albeit humiliating) but difficult with all his shopping, and fighting…well, he had no weapons and it had been a very long time since he had faced any combat, but even with hand-to-hand combat only he didn’t think these men knew what they were up against. Additionally, fighting here wasn’t the same – you would most likely be arrested, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from his Ada.  
Weighing up his options, he hoped they might see reason. He spoke calmly, though his words stung with the hurt of betrayal:  
“You may not agree with how I live my life, I do not seek your approval. But I do not want to hurt you. There is no need for this. Please, walk away and take your own path, and I shall do the same”.

To nobody’s surprise, the men did not do as Legolas asked them to. Things escalated quickly. The two men flanking Legolas and Joseph lunged forward and each gripped an arm, trying to force Legolas onto the ground. They pulled, shoved and kicked at his legs. But Legolas acted as suddenly as they did and as he predicted, neither of the men expected Legolas to be as strong or as able to fight as he was.  
With force and instilled grace, he freed his arms and pushed the men away with a tough shove. As they staggered backwards (one even lost his balance completely and landed on the ground) Legolas raised his eyes and saw hope. He’d had to abandon his shopping bags, there was nothing he could do about that, but if he could push his way past his assailants, he could escape through the alleyway without causing them serious harm. Though they may have deserved it, he would rather outrun them than beat them. There was no thought of ‘what if’ or ‘what then’ – his only thought was to get out.  
In that split second Legolas saw his chance and took it. He launched from where he was and sped forwards, preparing to push his final assailant out of his way. Joseph, who so far had stayed back from the fray, now had Legolas running straight towards him, though his eyes were focused beyond on his escape. Seemingly without fear, he had his hands in his pockets as the elf approached.  
Legolas charged shoulder-first into the once-shy man, who at the same time threw a sharp punch into Legolas’ chest. Ignoring any pain or discomfort for the time being, he barged past Joseph and began his run to freedom down the alleyway. Unfortunately Joseph was not the final assailant. Legolas had momentarily forgotten about the third man in the shadows. With his eyes fixed ahead of him, he did not see the figure in the corner move until too late. Also too late did he realise that the object the man had concealed from view was a wooden bat. He saw it for a second before it made contact with his head and for a moment that was the last thing he saw.  
When he came to seconds later, he was lying on his back on the ground, dazed and with a thumping headache. He couldn’t feel it yet but blood was slowly seeping from his hairline. Before ability returned to his limbs, all three men once again pounced on him and held him down roughly. Try as he might, he underestimated their combined strength as they had underestimated him. He struggled and thrashed and tried everything he knew but it was now three strong men against one and all of his limbs were accounted for. Legolas was overpowered.  
He also realised that the more he struggled, the more his shoulder hurt. Whenever he moved his right arm, a sudden strong ache pained him greatly. He looked down as he struggled and saw blood coming through his shirt. Joseph – who was too busy admiring his work to help pin Legolas down – saw him notice the wound and revealed what he had in his pocket. Joseph had not punched Legolas in their altercation, he had stabbed him with a small knife on the right of his chest just beneath his shoulder.  
Legolas was in pain, his lungs heaved, his head spun, his right hand felt numb while his shoulder became warm with blood, but still he struggled and did not give in. He was desperate to be free, desperate to get away from these vile men, to return to Thranduil, to go home, to be safe…  
He looked all around him in some vain and miraculous hope that he may find a way out. But as he looked to one side his heart shattered. Everything he had bought that morning now lay unceremoniously across the grimy pavement floor. Clothes were stained, his new shirts were crumpled, and some of the groceries were bashed and bruised. Worst of all, pieces of sticky glass twinkled on the floor as Thranduil’s special honey oozed down the alley wall, wasted in between the cracks.  
The three men pinned Legolas down hard as Joseph loomed over him.  
“Keep him still”, he ordered. The quiet trembling tones of the man in the café were gone, replaced by a cruel menacing voice of hate.  
The men tightened their grip, sharing Legolas’ arms and legs between them. Content that his prey was securely maintained, Joseph knelt by the straining elf and began undoing Legolas’ belt. Why he was doing this Legolas couldn’t think, or perhaps dared not to. Once the belt and fly were free, he yanked down his trousers and pulled them forcefully off of him, a shoe falling off in the process. He carelessly discarded them by throwing them aside and, to Legolas’ horror, proceeded to do the same with his underwear. His increased straining and struggling did nothing to dissuade the man and his friends only held the elf down tighter.  
Except, for half a moment, he felt the hold around his leg slip. Half a moment was enough. He shook and twisted his leg, pulled it back and threw it forward, kicking Joseph hard and square in the face. With one limb free he hoped he could use it to gain ground and free the others, but the men were quick to react. The man at his feet recaptured his free leg (though not without difficulty) while the other two only increased their hold on his body. One man held him down in such a way that his elbow dug into the elf’s throat. To add to his misery, Joseph was not pleased with Legolas’ attack which had left him with a bruised cheek and a bloodied lip so he retaliated by punching him hard in the stomach.  
Legolas was exposed, helpless and humiliated. He tried to cry out, for help, to stop them, anything, but the pointed elbow pressing on his windpipe prevented him from making any comprehendible sounds. How had he gotten himself into this mess, he thought, and what did these men want with him? They surely didn’t…want their way with him, if they were so against the idea of two men being together. He soon wished that he had never asked.  
From the waist down Legolas’ body was bare for all to see, parts that should remain covered now freely visible. His legs were held apart from one another so there was no chance of covering up. For a few moments, Joseph had disappeared from Legolas’ sight. He soon returned, glaring down at Legolas, with the bat in his hand. The weight of the wood made it gently swing in his hand. He then suddenly gripped the handle with both hands and swung it in one strong movement into Legolas’ genitals.  
The scream that erupted from Legolas was terrible. Despite the pressure on his throat his lungs forced out an agonising cry that lasted until he had no air left. Even when a hand was clamped over his mouth to dull the noise, the cry continued, a guttural noise resounding in his throat that would have made the most seasoned warrior flinch. The bat almost clanged as it made contact with Legolas’ hip bone. He breathed desperately through his nostrils.   
He didn’t know if he felt the second blow, but his body certainly did. He felt his nerves rush a message of panic and unfathomable pain. His mind spun, barely comprehending what was happening, his eyes sprung with tears, every inch of him tingled with both numbness and torture, he felt as though he were on fire. By the third blow he didn’t feel like he could breathe at all.

Several miles away, in an office on the other side of town, despite having no idea what peril his beloved son was in, Thranduil knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

He had felt it. It was as though Legolas was standing next to him when he screamed. Thranduil could not of course hear it but it had pierced his heart and tore through his skull. His bond burnt with alarm.  
He was sitting at his desk when it happened. He had instantly stopped what he’d been doing. Being alone in the room no-one had seen his reaction, the look on his face when the sensation struck, the moment when all thought evaporated and focused entirely on his son.  
Regaining his composure, he stood and walked to the window behind him. He had a luxurious office with a wide view of the town. He looked out searching for the one he loved most, as if through some miracle he may spot him.  
He reached into his pocket, brought out his mobile phone and dialled Legolas’ number. He was not a great fan of modern technology and had been forced to adapt out of necessity, but he knew how to call Legolas without thinking about it. He placed it to his ear while his eyes remained on the horizon. No answer followed the dial tone. He tried again, same response. He closed his eyes and channelled all his being on locating Legolas through their bond, but he could not seem to find him. He could speak but not be heard, nor could he hear Legolas back. It was like finding a signal in a lightning storm.  
Something felt unsettled deep inside of him, something he couldn’t shake. The decision to leave work and find Legolas himself was less of a decision and more the obvious course of action. It wasn’t like he had much to do there anyway. He packed up his things, locked his office, told the receptionist that he would be out for the rest of the day as he walked out the main entrance, and made his way to his car.  
Sitting in the driver’s seat and shutting the car door, all became suddenly quiet and he was no longer surrounded by the world of the work place but just his own thoughts. The situation Thranduil was in became real very quickly. What was wrong with Legolas? What was the sensation he felt in his office, and what had caused it? How much trouble or danger was Legolas in? It wasn’t like they lived in a war zone anymore. What could possibly hurt him here? And was it possible that he was already too late…  
It wasn’t like him but he felt in his blood an undeniable sense of panic. He took a deep breath to calm himself and put the key in the ignition. He had no idea where Legolas was or what was happening, but he knew that he had to find him.  
He thought back to their conversation at breakfast: Legolas had been telling him about his plans for the day. He was up to something special, something different…that was it, he was going out shopping in town. He might be back home by now. It was a good enough place to start as any. Putting the car in gear, he headed straight for home by the fastest route he knew.  
The gravel ground and crackled as he drove the car into the drive. He absentmindedly collected his things but his interest was not what was in the car, it was who would hopefully be in the house. He entered their home and shut the front door behind him. No sound. No television, no welcoming call from his beloved, no sign of shopping bags littered around the floor. He went to the kitchen, only to find it empty. He then moved to the living room to find the same thing. He searched the bathroom, the side rooms, the bedroom, all the time calling his son’s name, each empty room he found making him more anxious and frantic. All he wanted is to find him safe. What he wouldn’t give for Legolas to turn round a corner, any corner, and look at his father as though he were a mad-man. But he didn’t and he wasn’t.  
After double-checking every room and shouting his son’s name through the house to no avail, he decided to try and call his mobile again before he truly found himself at his wit’s end. He scrambled for his phone and dialled Legolas’ number. For the third time that day all he got was voicemail. He was becoming increasingly frustrated. He needed to know Legolas’ condition and location but he had no way of learning it. His agitated state tried once again to speak to Legolas through their bond, but again he couldn’t reach him. He wondered if Legolas could feel how worried he was. He didn’t even know why he was worried, he just knew there was a reason.  
The temptation to thump and kick furniture was becoming overwhelming for the proud King. His precious was lost, his beloved needed him and he was nowhere to be found. He hoped Legolas didn’t feel abandoned, he hoped somehow he knew Thranduil was coming for him. Somehow.  
It seemed to the King that there was only one other option left, before he resorted to either calling the police or sitting in the house waiting for him to return whilst slowing descending into madness: the only proactive thing he could do now was to search the town, since that’s where Legolas said he would be. The idea sounded ludicrous – the town centre was large and full of shops and streets that went off in every direction, not all accessible by car – but it was all he could think of to do. Making sure to bring his phone with him, he turned the volume up loud in case Legolas returned his calls and got back into the car.  
He drove round and round, through, in and out of the town centre for what felt like hours. His heart was pulsing in his head, his hands were sweaty as they gripped the steering wheel, he took deep breaths to keep himself focused…all reactions he would never normally have, but such was the strength of his love for Legolas that his own body was responding to Legolas’ pain.  
He made his way through all the roads he knew of, dodging shoppers dashing from pavement to pavement and lorries parked on the kerbs, all the time keeping his eyes peeled for his son. He held his breath any time he saw locks of blond hair, but they were never as fine as his son’s. He didn’t leave a single street unsearched. When he found himself on the same street for the third time, he felt an urge to try his phone again. Sitting in a queue at a traffic light, he put his phone on the seat next to him on speaker and dialled. He kept calling and recalling but each time the only voice that replied was automated.

‘Legolas’ thought Thranduil half reaching out and half to himself, ‘my beautiful Legolas, where are you?’

Suddenly something grabbed Thranduil in the chest, as though an anchor had been thrown into his heart and taken hold. It was like a beacon, a flare, the strength of which made Thranduil instantly slam on the brakes, prompting an angry beep from the car directly behind. Ignoring the inconvenienced driver, Thranduil looked around, keenly aware of everything. The people, the shops, the bags, the cars – none of them were Legolas - but out of his driver-side window was a long, dark alleyway. It looked empty from the roadside, but something about it was important.  
Much though he wanted to throw caution to the wind and search for his son he couldn’t stop his car where he was and there was nowhere for him to pull over. This time he floored the accelerator, prompting (and again ignoring) more angry honks from other startled drivers. He dodged around several slower-moving vehicles as he raced to the nearest car park, which he had remembered wasn’t far. Throwing his car into the nearest parking space, he hurriedly locked it and sprinted back to the alleyway. He ran as fast as his suit and lungs would let him, whisking past people like a gust of air and taking the clearest routes, until he arrived at the unknown walkway.  
He walked along the cobbles, eyes frantically searching every corner of the darkness. But the truth was quickly realised – whatever he had felt and whatever may have happened here, Legolas was nowhere to be found.


	5. Chapter 5

The cobbled ground remained as cold and hard as it always was, since the surrounding buildings loomed tall above it, climbing to the sky like concrete ivy to block out the joy of the sun. It still shone bright, though the clouds had arrived, grey and threatening, to cover up its loveliness. The sky was paler now, less clear blue than it had been earlier in the day and though still warm the temperature had dropped a touch. A quiet breeze whistled through the air. All was dark, all was grey save for the spots of moss that grew through the cracks in the walls and stones.  
Legolas lay still on the ground, eyes wide but barely seeing, his broken body numbed by shock but paralyzed by agony. If he moved his wounds screamed, but as he lay half-naked and motionless he felt nothing; the cool breeze, the hard ground, the bustle of the street, all his senses were empty in his black living dream. He could not think about what had happened, and he couldn’t comprehend where he now lay.  
Now he was in the alleyway alone – Legolas could not fathom whether this was a grace or added further to his plight. The men who had beaten him stopped when they heard the blaring sirens of a police car. When it pulled up by the alleyway entrance, they had panicked and run.  
In the wracked and confused mess that was his mind, a whisper of a previous thought came to Legolas: get up, get out, go home, find Thranduil. Get out. Although his body felt unwilling to move in its stunned state, he did want to leave this place and if he could go home, he would.  
Unfortunately of all the injuries he had sustained from his attack, his pelvis was the worst and the softer parts between. Even the slightest nudge or roll or attempt at sitting caused incredible pain. He unintentionally cried out in a loud, pained voice. His nerves sparked sharply, his muscles ached, his head spun again. He thought he heard voices coming from behind him, but he couldn’t understand the words. In desperation he cried out ‘Ada!’ in the hope that he may hear and rescue him. But sight and sound faded out as Legolas lost consciousness.  
When he returned he had not moved but something had changed. There was more colour in his vision, not because his condition had improved but because now two strangers in green clothing were kneeling beside him. Blue lights flashed sporadically, visually echoing across the dark stony walls.  
It turned out that while Legolas was being beaten the police had been called after complaints of a disturbance. The policeman on duty had found Legolas alone, saw him lose consciousness and had called an ambulance. The strangers in green were paramedics and were currently assessing the elf to provide the most appropriate treatment.  
The paramedics were a man and a woman respectively: the female had placed a blanket over Legolas’ legs to protect his dignity (and to keep him warm, though she obviously did not know this was not necessary) while the male was doing something to his injured shoulder.  
As Legolas fought to realign with reality, he realised that the female paramedic was talking to him in a slow, clear voice:

“Hello? Hello sir, can you hear me? My name is Lisa, I’m a paramedic, this is my colleague, Marcus, we’re here to help you. You’ve got quite a few injuries, so we’re going to give you some pain relief. We need you to stay calm and still, OK?”

Legolas understood the words but not quite what they meant. He knew that he was injured, but he didn’t know who these people were. The last person he met who he didn’t know turned out to be a monster, and a violent one at that. He didn’t feel like meeting any more strangers today.  
He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go home. He wanted Thranduil and he wanted to go home. He didn’t want to deal with these people, and he was Prince, he didn’t have to. He tried to push himself up. 

“No, no, Sir”, Lisa the paramedic protested, “you need to lie down, alright? You need to stay on the floor”.

Without a glance to either stranger, Legolas paid no attention. He tried to push through the pain. By the Valar it was hard. He could barely move let alone walk. To make matters more difficult for him, the paramedics were actively trying to keep him down. They did not restrain him, but he felt the male paramedic put his hands on him to discourage him from standing. Legolas was in no mood to be handled and thrust his arm (pierced though it was) towards Marcus, who had to move back suddenly to avoid being struck.

“Hey!” said Lisa, “don’t do that! We’re trying to help you”.

Legolas’ vision was clearer now he had fully woken. The paramedics and himself were surrounded by gadgets and things he didn’t recognise. There were tubes, bandages, bags, boxes, two large canisters with the words ENTONOX and OXYGEN printed down the sides (he only recognised one of those words), vials, needles, papers and scissors…

“No!” he shouted out. “Stay away! Leave me alone!”

He would not beg and he could not fight, but words could not explain how deeply he wanted to get up and run away. Despite their words of reassurance and calm, he would only verbally and physically push them away. He became even more unnerved when he saw another stranger in white and black (a policeman) step towards him. These people would not help him, of that he was convinced. He didn’t know them, they could be anyone, with anything in mind. He could trust no-one. The only person he trusted in the world right now was Thranduil, and he wasn’t here. He was alone, defending his corner.  
He gripped the ground with his fingers, willed his legs to work and tried to escape. If he could not run or walk, he would stagger; if he could not stagger, he would crawl; if he could not crawl he would drag himself along, by his fingernails if he had to.  
But as expected he didn’t get very far. With a strong push he forced his sitting body forwards, but once again unbearable pain crackled through his bones and his blood boiled as a reminder of the damage. His will to move was strong, but the pain was stronger. With another loud cry he fell to the ground again, breathing heavily to try and stem the sensation raging through him.  
Marcus and the policeman looked alert but Lisa knelt by Legolas and holding his hand, spoke in a calm voice:

“Hey it’s alright. Look at me: what’s your name?”

For the first time Legolas looked directly at her. He shook his head. As he lay in this new position slightly to one side, he scented a new smell waft delicately into his nose. It was sweet. The honey still clung to the alleyway surfaces. Legolas’ heart hurt and tears lined his eyes.

“You must be feeling very confused” continued Lisa softly, “but we’re going to look after you now, you don’t need to be scared of us. It’s going to be ok”.

Legolas felt weak and completely helpless, as though he was giving in.

“You have been seriously injured” she reiterated. “We would like to give you some medicine to help with the pain and then take you to hospital where they can help make you better. Is that alright?”

“Legolas” he said after a long pause, though he didn’t know why.

“Sorry?”

“Legolas, my name is Legolas”.

“That’s a very nice name. Is it French?” Lisa asked.

“No” replied Legolas. “Oh” said Lisa.

“We were never any good at geography!” joked Marcus. Lisa agreed.

“Alright Legolas, you’re going to feel a bit of a scratch in your left arm. Just relax and you’ll feel better very soon”.

Sure enough something sharp penetrated Legolas’ arm, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as the pain he was already in. And, as she promised, the drugs began to take effect. Normal medication tends not to affect Elves as it does Mortals (and Elves do not usually need to take them) but these were strong painkillers inserted straight into Legolas’ bloodstream. His breathing slowed as he relaxed, his muscles released their tension, his will to run diminished. His hands, his arms, his feet, all of him became slowly but gradually numb. It was a strange, uncomfortable and unnerving experience. But on the plus side his head stopped pounding, the pain in his shoulder disappeared and his pelvis felt like a rock that he had no will to move.  
In his mind it wasn’t that he didn’t feel anything, instead a thousand thoughts and emotions were shouting to be heard but were trapped inside his skull. Two things however he felt without any doubt – terrified and alone. He did not fear these people in green but his trust in their race for the moment was gone. They were not like any healers he had ever met before but they did take his pain away, so he hoped rather than trusted that their words were sincere and permitted himself to be helped.  
He was pulled, rolled, touched, bandaged, examined and eventually placed on a stretcher, strapped gently into place and lifted into a large vehicle. A rubber mask with air coming out of it was placed over his mouth (he panicked at first, even in his relaxed state, until he was assured that it was only oxygen to help him breathe) and Lisa sat with him while Marcus disappeared to drive the ambulance. The drive was far from pleasant – everything rocked from side to side, the sirens deafened him and although he had the kind Lisa sitting by his side making sure at every moment that he felt well and was in no pain, he would much rather have had Thranduil beside him holding his hand.  
Though Legolas had no sense of time while he was travelling, the journey took about 15 minutes, after which the sirens (to Legolas’ relief) turned off and they came slowly to a stop. Once they arrived, Legolas was wheeled out of the ambulance and transported on the moving stretcher into the hospital. He passed through corridor after corridor with yellow-white lights passing periodically over his head until eventually he was brought into a large room with lots of strange noises and bright lights.  
If the treatment by the paramedics had overwhelmed him before, the majors centre in the accident and emergency was far worse. The poor prince could hardly see, being strapped to a bed facing upwards and his head still fuzzy from the drugs, he was surrounded by discordant beeps and buzzes which boggled his senses, and people, so many people walking round in different coloured uniforms, discussing things, on the phone, at the computer, talking to patients, disappearing behind bay curtains. How normal it had been for him to walk amongst strangers in town that morning, and how terrified he was of each and every one of them now.  
He was unstrapped and lain on a bed while the paramedics stepped back and swarms of other medical professionals moved in. One stood at the foot of the bed barking orders to the others, none of which Legolas understood. Occasionally a nurse would introduce him or herself blandly to him, which Legolas quickly realised was a heartless formality before they did something intrusive or painful to him. He couldn’t remember afterwards how aware of it he was at the time, but he had certainly never had his private parts on show to so many people before.

“Hello?” squeaked a large coloured woman in his right ear, “hello my darling, my name is Clara, I am one of the hospital administrators. Could you tell me your name?”

“Legolas” he replied.

“And your surname?”

“Greenleaf” he replied after a moment, hoping that answer would suffice.

“Is that double S in Lejolas?” she asked, pronouncing his name with a soft G. He replied simply with a negative.

“And you’re male…” she continued, “what’s your date of birth?”

Legolas went blank. He had no idea, no Elves did. His eyes widened as in his panic he thought hard. Had Thranduil ever mentioned the time of his birth? The season, even? He didn’t remember such a conversation. Birthdays were important to Mortals, they wouldn’t believe that he simply didn’t have one. Gods he didn’t even know what day it was today, let alone the day he was born!  
Looking around for an answer and coming up empty, he suddenly arrived at the conclusion that he would simply have to invent one, and hope no-one would find out it was false. Or even better, he thought in a burst of inspiration, the one date that stuck in his mind – the day he and Thranduil realised their love for each other. That wonderful night of…Halloween.

“The, urr……31st…of…October…”

‘Oh Gods…’ thought Legolas. Choosing a date was easy, choosing a year was another. Anything too old or too young would arouse suspicion. How old did he look to Mortals – 20? 30? Maybe he was being too generous. He was hopeless at guessing people’s ages by their appearance. And what century were the Mortals in?!

“And the year?” the administrator prompted.

“Erm…sorry…35” he finished.

“1935??!” she repeated incredulously.

“Oh…no! Sorry…that’s my age. I am 35” clarified Legolas. It felt odd to say it.

“Ok…so that would be 1981?”

“Yes…sorry…” he stuttered.

Fortunately there were no more stressful questions after that. His address he could give easily, since he and Thranduil had a house, and to Legolas’ relief she wandered off after that. He breathed a sigh of relief, though he wasn’t comfortable yet. He was still surrounded by strangers who were talking about him as though he wasn’t there, he was still hurt, completely bare, in a world he seemed to no longer know or trust. He was weak, helpless, embarrassed, sad, angry, hurt…he wanted to shout, sleep, cry, shout out…he wanted to take charge and demand answers, and to surrender like a child to the protection of others at the same time.  
The only person in the world that he wanted to be with right now seemed very far away, and so to defend himself he curled up inside of himself, spoke to no-one and shut down from this strange and frightening new world which he had been viciously thrown into. Only one voice broke through his thoughts:

“Move him into a waiting bay, we’ll take him from there”.


	6. Chapter 6

It was now Thranduil’s turn to be on the alleyway floor though he did not lie there, he crouched. His long fingers padded the ground to aid his visual search. He was looking for something – anything – that Mortals would miss: items, marks, scratches, weapons, anyone would notice these, but Thranduil was looking for more. A feeling, a presence, a bent grass blade or moved stones where someone may have lain…something brought him to this place. Why he had felt this place was important, he could not say but there must have been something. ‘There must be something here…’, he thought. He recalled the cry he had heard in his office. Perhaps this is where Legolas called from?  
He remained as calm and collected as he could, despite his mildly dishevelled appearance and his wildly beating heart. The numerous scents around him told part of the tale of what had happened – ignoring the distinct odour of sweat and decay that encompassed all Mortals, there was disturbed dust in the air, something antiseptic akin to cleaning fluid, a tinge of sweetness, cigarette smoke.  
He made no noise but his face became as stone when he found the sign he was searching for. On a few cobbles by his feet were scattered spots of blood. Little lines of it had pooled in-between the cracks. Thranduil lightly dabbed at a spot with his finger and examined it closely. It shone against his pale skin with an almost luminescent scarlet.  
Whatever thoughts Thranduil may have had about the spilled blood were interrupted by a brusk voice behind him:  
“Excuse me? What are you doing there?”

The gentleman to whom the voice belonged spoke loud and clearly in Thranduil’s direction and he wore, as he discovered when he turned towards the voice, a policeman’s uniform.  
The man spoke again: “Are you OK there, Sir?”  
Thranduil noticed that there were in fact two policemen now looking at him, one was approaching him and the other was standing further back by his police car which was parked at the alleyway entrance. He also noticed the police tape which he had blindly walked through. He quickly came to the conclusion that he didn’t care about either of these things, and so lowering his head he looked blankly at the blood and tried to recollect his thoughts. The policeman did not take too kindly to being ignored:  
“Excuse me Sir, I am talking to you. Do you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”  
Irritated but staying calm so as not to end up in handcuffs (and not the kind he might enjoy), he stood to his full height in front of the policeman and replied in a cool voice: “I am looking for someone”.  
In the palace of Mirkwood, if its King stood barely feet from you in all his splendour and authority you could quite rightly feel intimidated, or perhaps overawed or both. The policeman, to his credit, stood his ground.  
“Well you can’t look for them here, Sir. Didn’t you see the police tape?”  
Undeterred, Thranduil replied: “I did not. Like I said, I am looking for someone”.  
The policeman was summing up the elf in his mind. He wasn’t drunk, he didn’t run when they arrived and he wasn’t a thug, he was well-dressed and spoke clearly, so maybe his story was legit. All the same, he was still standing in a crime scene.

“And who is it that you’re looking for?” the policeman asked.  
“I am looking for…” Thranduil started before he paused. Was he looking for his son, or was he looking for his partner? Which sounded better? Would he receive higher priority help for family rather than a spouse? He only considered this for a brief moment (so as to not sound suspicious) before he regained his composure and replied: “…for my partner”. This was the first time he had told a complete stranger – or anyone, in fact – that he was in a relationship, and implied with a male at that. But that was a thought for another time.

“Why are you looking for your partner?” the officer asked.  
“I’m worried for him” Thranduil replied, “I think something might have happened”.  
“What makes you think that?”  
“I’m not sure…he hasn’t answered my calls. It’s not like him…” A poor answer, Thranduil knew, but what else could he say?  
“What’s your name?”  
“Thranduil”.  
The policeman spoke carefully now: “Thranduil, why do you think something has happened to your partner? Is he involved in something? Does he know people who would want to hurt him?”  
“No, nothing like that”, Thranduil replied honestly. “I think I heard him cry out”.

The police officer was giving Thranduil an odd look, and the elf didn’t know why.  
“Do you know a crime took place here about an hour ago? Do you know anything about it?” Thranduil shook his head on both accounts, his whole body on edge but his appearance remaining calm.  
The policeman paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully before he spoke: “Does your partner look like you? Tall, slender build, blond hair?”

Thranduil’s heart was stunned with a cold ice and his stomach leapt inside him. His eyes involuntarily widened.  
“You have seen him? Please, tell me what you know”.

The policeman was close to believing Thranduil but not just yet. “What’s your partner’s name?”  
“Legolas”, Thranduil replied without a blink.  
That sealed it for the policeman. “I know where he is. I’ll give you a ride to the hospital”.  
‘Hospital? What was Legolas doing in a hospital?’ thought Thranduil.  
“Do you know what’s happened to him?” Thranduil pleaded, following the officer towards his vehicle.  
“I think it’s best you find out when you see him” the officer replied.

The police officer guided Thranduil to the back seat of the police car. As the car revved to life and drove out of town, he sat silently as a thousand thoughts whirled round his mind. He was relieved to have found a trail to Legolas, excited even, but it seemed as bad news disguised. Whatever had befallen Legolas was serious enough that his son would allow himself to be treated by mortal doctors. If Thranduil discovered that Legolas had done something stupid like tripped on a pair of new shoes and snapped his ankle, Thranduil would give him an injury to remember himself…but no. That wasn’t Legolas. The police had been called – a crime had been committed. And Legolas had called out to him…it occurred to Thranduil then that it may not have been a cry of fear or for help as he first assumed, but a cry of pain? An eruption of desperate, agonising pain? Such thoughts were not calming Thranduil’s nerves. He was panicked, anxious, concerned, desperate, frustrated, angry…terrified. He wished the car would go faster.  
It turned out that the policeman Thranduil had spoken to was the same policeman who had called for the paramedics. He was the one who had found Legolas barely conscious in the alley and recognised that he needed medical help. The policeman couldn’t tell Thranduil what had happened on their way to the hospital, because he hadn’t seen the incident take place – all he could say was that Legolas was hurt.

“When you say ‘hurt’” began Thranduil, speaking for the first time since he had gotten into the car, “what injuries did he have?”  
The policeman blew out a puff of air. “All over, really. Like I said, it’ll be clear once you actually see him”.

At last they pulled up to the visitor’s entrance of the hospital. Thranduil had never been into a hospital before so he didn’t know what to expect; he had visited the healing houses in Mirkwood of course, but this was different and much larger. However Thranduil would walk into the mouth of Hell itself if he could find Legolas there. He didn’t even know what he do when he found Legolas, but so long as he knew where he was and could hold him safe in his arms, anything else could be dealt with.  
He stepped out of the police car. The driver’s window came down:  
“Go through those double doors to the main reception. Tell them who you’re looking for and they should be able to guide you from there”.  
“Thank you for your help” replied Thranduil, “I am truly grateful”.  
“I hope you find him” sad the policeman sincerely. “I had a friend who got hurt once, a good friend. We were close. I’m sure you’ll be stronger than I was then”.  
Thranduil felt there was more of a story behind those words but now was not the time to tell it. Like all soldiers, they bear their sorrows and continue. The elf bowed his head in gratitude and the policeman waved him off as the car disappeared to go back on duty.

Turning back towards the hospital, Thranduil approached the doors of the entrance which opened automatically for him. Stepping through, he appeared in a large space filled with people, wheelchairs, sounds and direction arrows leading to places Thranduil had never heard of in his life. Half of the signs were abbreviated: ECG, MRI, ENT…where was the sign that said ‘Legolas Is Here’? The one sign he saw that made sense was the word ‘Reception’ in large, clear letters above a multi-person desk, so he made for there.  
He spoke to a woman who, after a few moments of clicking and scrolling on her computer, told him he’d been taken to the A&E department. She explained to him what that was (he had looked at her very confused and didn’t realise it stood for ‘Accident and Emergency’) and told him to follow the red path. He headed in the direction she had pointed to and sure enough, he found a sign which read ‘Accident and Emergency – This Way’ on it and a red line trailed along the floor.  
He stuck to the red line like it were a lifeline, and it led him through countless corridors and past many rooms, trolleys, more people and strange paintings on the wall before finally he found himself on the other side of the hospital and above some more double doors read the sign ‘Accident and Emergency’ in large white letters on a red backing. This area was more manic than the first one – sitting people, standing people, people in wheelchairs, people lying on stretchers; people in uniforms at desks, people in uniforms flitting from room to room; voices over tannoys, voices chatting to each other and repeating themselves down telephones; people with crutches, bandages, slings and sick bowls; some looked flushed, others pale as death. Thranduil felt like he had walked into Hell and wondered if any of them were contagious.  
Thranduil – and Legolas, though not to the same extent – was a quiet man who enjoyed his solitude. He only spoke when he needed to and only to whom he wanted to speak. He was neither a sociable character nor a conversationalist, and yet he had spoken to more people in this one day alone than everyone he’d spoken to in the last century. With a pleading look in his eyes, he approached the third receptionist of the day, told her the name of who he was looking for and asked if she knew where he was. Given Thranduil’s highly-strung state, he didn’t know what he would do if he was told that Legolas was not here or that he’d come to the wrong place; whether he’d collapse to the floor and despair or strangle the poor receptionist and everyone else in the room.  
Fortunately for anyone in a five mile radius, he had come to the right place and the receptionist did know where Legolas was. A glance at the sheet of paper on her desk and she told him he was in the Majors centre and pointed to another room with another set of double doors. ‘Another receptionist’ thought Thranduil despondently. She then told Thranduil that Legolas was in bed seven. Thranduil was relieved. A specific location meant that he was finally close.  
The Majors centre was a room of curtains. There were several cubicles down either side, each with either the curtains drawn or ajar to reveal an individual on a bed looking sorry for themselves. Again the air was humming with beeps and conversation, whilst it was also humid and had a smell that was distinctly human. It was also a room of no numbers so Thranduil had to count the cubicles to establish which was number seven. By an astonishing stroke of luck, the centre had fifteen cubicles in it so whichever end Thranduil counted from, he would arrive at the same number seven.  
Hurriedly recounting along both sides of the room to be sure, he advanced towards the allocated cubicle. On any other occasion he would have been mortified by his appearance: his face was flushed, his hair strewn about, his clothes awry, his heart pounding in his chest, his demeanour in a state of panic. But all that mattered now was finding Legolas. As he strode across the room, the slightest murmur in the soul bond he shared with Legolas told him that his son was near.  
He stood outside the cubicle. The curtain was tightly drawn across so nothing on the inside could be seen. There was no noise from within – no beeping, no speaking, no sounds of breath, no painful moans... The busy chaos of the emergency department fell deaf on the King’s ears and the world around him seemed to stop. He didn’t feel aware that he was standing in a hospital, he couldn’t think of the people he’d met, his car, his clothes, what day it was or what time – all there was in that moment was him and who was on the other side of that curtain. Aside from his pulsing heart-rate he felt numb and he wasn’t sure of the last time he had blinked or taken a breath. He reached out an arm, gripped the flimsy blue material in his hand and cautiously pulled back the curtain.  
The cubicle was a small space, enough for the patient’s bed and bystanders, enshrouded by curtains. A single chair adorned the bedside. The colour and style of the room was not worth noting – it was for practical use, not a designer interior – but the one thing Thranduil did note as he stood with the curtain ajar just enough so he could fit through without others seeing inside was the body lying alone and still on the bed.  
His eyes were shut and his lips closed. His long hair lay behind his head and down his back, as straight as ever. There were remnants of blood on his brow and his eye sockets had darkened to a dull purple, one more so than the other. His shirt had been cut open with scissors and a gauze patch strapped down with tape was visible over his right shoulder and chest – the side furthest from Thranduil, who did not miss that the shirt is bloodied. He was covered by a blanket from the waist down, which obscured the bulging package that was lying across his hips. His face was tilted away from Thranduil and he looked asleep. He was also dressed in a hospital gown and had several gadgets attached to him: an inflatable cuff was wrapped around his left arm, a grey plastic clip was attached to the end of one finger, and a thin coloured line rose and fell in a regular rhythm on a computer screen nearby which displayed several numbers and stats, all of which proved that Legolas was alive.  
As relieved as Thranduil was to have found his son, his fears (though not his worst) had been proved true: Legolas was hurt. He did not know what state his son’s body was in, but he looked broken. He realised now why he couldn’t make contact with him through their bond. Legolas had shut down, closed himself off from the world – even from those who may want to help – in order to protect himself from whatever had harmed him. His fea was like a frightened child, curled up in the corner, surrounding itself in lonely darkness so the light would not expose it. Seeing Legolas lying there was the most beautiful yet heart-wrenching thing Thranduil had seen.  
Legolas was in fact not asleep but resting, eyes closed and in his own space, not wanting to see or speak to anyone. He had heard the faint rustle of the curtain as it was pulled back but assuming it was just another nurse or doctor checking up on him he did not react to it. Not until he heard a familiar voice call his name:

“Legolas?”

Legolas’ eyes flickered open. It had sounded like…but it couldn’t be. Perhaps he had dreamt it? He rolled his head to the other side. And then he saw him.

They simply stared at each other to begin with, Legolas lying in the bed, Thranduil standing by the curtain, arms hung at his sides. Soon after there was an eruption, a flood of emotion that could not be contained any longer. Relief overwhelmed Thranduil.

“Legolas!”  
“Ada!”

Thranduil’s legs which had felt like lead as he stood there suddenly sprang to life. He ran to Legolas’ side, crashed to his knees by the bedside and leant across to his son, one hand clasping his son’s tightly and the other stroking his hair – a familial action between the two which symbolised adoration and reassurance.

“Legolas, oh my darling Legolas…my sweet one, my darling boy…my sweetheart, my love…it’s alright, Ada’s here, I’m here now…I’m so glad I’ve found you”.

As Thranduil had moved to his son, so too had his fea sought for Legolas’. He found it lonely and afraid but he caressed it, loved it, comforted it, showed it could trust him and he would love it and protect it for ever and ever. Everything each of them felt and had felt gushed forth between them, nothing was hidden or omitted. It took a moment to guide him out, but soon Legolas’ fea felt safe with Thranduil’s and their soul-bond rejoiced and clung together in a happy and romantic dance. And Legolas truly did cling on, out of happiness and of fear that should he let go, he may be taken away from Thranduil. He had felt lost, but now he was found and with the one he loved and trusted more than anything else in this world.  
Thranduil’s fea clung back just as hard and his physical being looked deep into Legolas’ eyes. ‘The eyes are the window of the soul’ was not just a human metaphor; he saw everything, and Thranduil’s eyes were just as telling. Thranduil’s eyes held unbounding love and relief, whereas Thranduil could see clearly the fear and pain in his son’s orbs, strong but hurt as he was, and he vowed to eradicate it all. Words could not take away what his son felt but his love might just help. He leant forward and found Legolas’ lips with his own. He kissed him as passionately as he dared, whispering reassurances between breaths such as ‘I’m here’ and ‘You’re safe now’. Legolas gave as good as he took and their love burst aflame between them.  
But after a moment Thranduil noticed that his son’s lips were no longer moving with his own. Legolas’ eyes were clenched shut, his whole body shook and his breathing came in deep loud gasps. The reality of Thranduil’s presence meant that this awful situation was real and he inadvertently brought with him the reality of everything Legolas’ mind had tried to shield him from; opening the door to Thranduil meant opening up to everything, and it all suddenly overwhelmed him. He tried not to, he tried to contain it, but it was no use. Tears burst from his eyes and his chest heaved as he wept.  
Thranduil saw his torment. There would be no good in trying to stop it, all he could do was comfort him and ease his pain. He kept his face close to his son’s, allowing Legolas’ tears to drip down his nose as they ran down his son’s face, and spoke directly to his mind, whispering Elvish words of healing and calling his son’s name softly like a lullaby. Once the wave of emotion subsided, they stayed still for a long time. Reassured by his love and protection he was surrounded with, Legolas calmed his breathing and wiped the tears from his face.  
It was then time to explain to Thranduil what had happened, to fill him in on the gaps that he didn’t know. Legolas needed no prompt, it was clear that an explanation was required, for the day’s events and for the emotions which had just burst forth. In a weak voice he told Thranduil everything that had happened between going to the town centre and arriving at the hospital. He spoke honestly and made his story brief, though if Thranduil asked for details he gave them. Otherwise Thranduil was silent throughout. His face became grim and his expression hardened. It was a difficult tale both to tell and hear. Legolas knew it would make Thranduil angry, although not with him, and as the betrayal was revealed and the violence detailed, Legolas could see the storm in his father’s eyes. Thunder rolled from his fea. Legolas wondered how his father would feel about him talking to Joseph – it was not an act of infidelity and he hoped his father would understand.  
It had felt strange to Legolas to share his injuries with Thranduil, it was never something he would normally have done. In the past, he would have dealt with them himself or if they were more serious he would have gone to the healer, but there was rarely any need for his father to be involved. Yet many things had changed in their relationship over the countless years, so he supposed this would be no exception. He explained that the bulge under the blanket was some kind of pelvic brace and a large cool-pack which would ease the bruising and reduce any swelling. At the point in the story where he was injured in the groin, Legolas barely saw Thranduil react at all but he knew in his heart that this was not from lack of caring, this was restraint. No matter how he felt, not once during the telling did he let go of Legolas’ hand.  
At the end of the tale both Elves fell silent, Thranduil was in thought and Legolas had said all he had to say. The silence was deep, any sound around them was irrelevant to their private moment within the enclosed cubicle. Legolas worried that Thranduil wasn’t looking at him. Did he think him weak? Did he blame him for what had happened? Was he angry? Was he angry with himself? He couldn’t make sense of anything Thranduil was feeling, his fea was thrumming with innumerable, indistinguishable vibes. Eventually it became too painful for the Prince, who could only think of one further thing to add in order to break the quiet. In a sincerely sad voice, he uttered: “I’m sorry, Ada. Forgive me”.  
Thranduil turned his head and his gaze rose from the floor to see Legolas again. His face was no longer one of digesting information and rapid thought, but one of a father, one of care and utter love that would forgive and endure anything. Of course he was angry. Had he an army to command, they would be armed with gleaming weapons and sent to find this bastard, and when he was found he would be tortured, interrogated, forced to kneel before the King and Father of the victim; or better still he would hunt him himself, pour every ounce of strength and prowess into tracking him down so that he could unleash his revenge and immeasurable fury upon him…but he didn’t. Even though every moment that this man, this coward, was free burnt his soul he put it aside. For now. His son was more important. Knowing he was safe, calm, healed, protected, loved…that was his priority. And it always would be.  
Gently so as not to disturb his son’s fragile body, he leant over and kissed him lovingly on the forehead. Afterwards he said:  
“There is nothing to forgive, and there is no need to be sorry”.  
Legolas’ fea glowed with a lovely warmth at his words and nuzzled gratefully into Thranduil’s, who caressed him back with equal warmth. He was so grateful for his father and everything he gave him, he felt unworthy of him but he wouldn’t give up this feeling for the world. The pair stayed close to one another, safe in one another’s presence, content in their closeness.

“How did you know where to find me?” questioned Legolas.

Now it was Thranduil’s turn for his side of the story:  
“With some help from the police. I was in my office at work when I heard your cry. I went home first to see if you were there; since you weren’t I went to the only other place I knew you had been: in town. I drove round like a mad man for a while until I was drawn to a little alleyway”.  
At this, Legolas’ heart skipped a beat: “You went to the alleyway?”  
Thranduil nodded before adding grimly: “I found your blood on the floor. I knew something had happened. The police were there. One of them recognised me”.  
In answer to Legolas’ bemused look, he explained: “He said I looked like you. He drove me here whilst explaining what little he knew along the way, though he couldn’t tell me much except that you were badly hurt. Hopefully we can use his help again to find this Joseph”.  
Legolas nodded slowly but said nothing.  
“And just so you know…” added Thranduil in a lighter tone, “I told the police officer that I was your partner, not your father. In case anyone asks”.  
Legolas smiled. “So I guess it’s official?”  
“Looks like it”.  
Both Elves chuckled. Legolas gently caressed his father’s hand which lay in his own with his thumb and Thranduil sent many loving waves in his direction through their bond.  
“Well, in case anyone asks you, I am 35 years old. At least I think that’s what I said. Oh Valar, what year did I give? I can’t even remember…”  
Thranduil chuckled, bemused. “Legolas, what are you talking about? You have been alive for longer than thirty-five mortal years”.  
“I know”, Legolas explained, “but they asked me for my name, address and date of birth. I could give them the first two but I don’t know when I was born, so I had to make something up. I don’t suppose you remember?”  
“I remember the day itself like it was yesterday. And I know what season you were born in, which is why you have the name you do, but I do not know what day it was in the Mortal calendar, or how they would render it in Mortal years”.  
“I imagine it would be very confusing, but to avoid complication I guessed how old I may look to a Mortal and chose that. I then chose a date and…gave myself a birthday”.  
“And when is that?”  
“October the 31st. Halloween”.  
When Thranduil didn’t respond, Legolas prompted: “The day we first…we first realised…”  
He suddenly came over quite shy, but there was no need. Thranduil gasped lightly when he realised the date Legolas had chosen. It was the day that was the most special to him. In a way it was very appropriate, as for both of them it had been a day of rebirth, the start of a new life for them. The motive for choosing that date warmed Thranduil’s heart.  
“So now that I have a birthday, I expect lots of presents and nice food and hugs and kisses” chirped Legolas like a small child.  
Thranduil laughed out loud. “Well, of course! We must remember to celebrate”.  
“Do you promise? We have to make it look real, or they’ll find out the truth!”  
“I think we can manage that”.  
Thranduil smiled and Legolas grinned back briefly before another thought occurred to him: “Forgive me Ada, but you said before that you heard me?”  
Thranduil slowly sat up again and nodded. “I heard you here. I heard you scream”.  
He placed his free hand over his heart. His face had fallen as he remembered what that sensation had felt like, like glass shattering inside his skull. Legolas too shuddered at the memory of what had caused that scream.  
However, Thranduil added raising an eyebrow: “Though I would have heard you clearer if you had answered your phone”.  
Legolas’ face was one of consideration, then dawning realisation, but soon snapped to one of confusion and then doubt.  
“I didn’t have my phone…did I? Wait…I did have my phone…but what did I do with it? It’s not in my pockets, and I didn’t use it…”  
Thranduil brought out his own phone and dialled Legolas’ number. He heard the dialling tone in his ear and then a few moments later, a faint rustling sound came from the far side of the room. Against the wall of Legolas’ cubicle was a pile of carrier bags – the remains of Legolas’ shopping. Thranduil, letting go of Legolas’ hand for the first time since he’d found his son, moved across to them and followed the sound until he came to the correct bag. When he reached in and picked it up, a message flashed on the screen informing him of the seven missed calls. Legolas felt a little foolish and apologised once again.  
“That doesn’t matter now” said Thranduil kindly, shaking his head and returning to Legolas’ side, “so long as I have found you and that you are safe”.  
Thranduil smiled down at him, but Legolas could not smile back. As delighted as he was to be with Thranduil again, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness when he looked across at the debris of paper, plastic and crumpled clothes that were bundled in the corner. He didn’t mourn his purchases but what they symbolised: he had been happy, content, independent, confident and at peace. Now he was hurt, doubtful, frightened, made a victim and wanted to hide himself from the world. He also wanted to hide Thranduil, he couldn’t have him hurt either.  
“I bought you more honey” he said sadly. His throat threatened to close and choke his words as he forced back tears.  
“We can buy more” replied Thranduil comfortingly. He placed his free hand on the side of Legolas’ face and gently brought his gaze away from the damaged shopping towards him. He spoke from the heart and with such emotional depth that he held Legolas’ eyes with his words as well as the palm upon his cheek:  
“There is only one you. All that matters is that you live…because I wouldn’t without you. I wouldn’t want to”.  
“I love you” whispered Legolas, equally heartfelt, “I always have, and I - -“  
There were no more words. Before he could finish Thranduil enveloped Legolas’ mouth in a deep, tender kiss. Their lips graced over each other as their tongues danced. Their mouths were warm, their hearts beat in unison and they breathed as one.  
Such a demonstration of love had many feelings and motives behind it, but it served if nothing else as a distraction. They were relieved to be reunited, and now was the time to focus on the present, not the past. There was no need to look back for now, it was too painful – the events had unfolded and the tale had been told. Now it was time to move on, to step away from the dark horror and move towards a happier light, not alone but with his partner by his side, together as one.  
The road to healing would not be an easy one, however: in the short term alone, the doctors wanted a brain scan to confirm there was no internal damage from the head wound, he would need stitches for the stab wound, an x-ray of his pelvis and extensive monitoring and treatment of his genitals, which the doctors hoped would not lead to permanent damage.

Light will not appear in the dark tunnel for you; you must walk towards it.


End file.
